


All Out

by sidneycarter



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Collection [4]
Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Cricket, Fluff, M/M, Sports Injury, at least thats how i intended it to read, sid gets babied as a result, sullivan is worried as usual, the kembleford v hambleston cricket match, their relationship is also pretty new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidneycarter/pseuds/sidneycarter
Summary: Just before the lunch time break, the rather raucous Kembleford vs Hambleston annual cricket match is halted due to injury.
Relationships: Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829203
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	All Out

**Author's Note:**

> another bthb fic! im not completely happy with this one and idk how much sid x sullivan is actually in it?? i tried but idk... thank you to the anon who prompted on tumblr! i hope you like it anyway xx

Just before the lunch time break, the rather raucous Kembleford vs Hambleston annual cricket match is halted due to injury. 

“I’m fine, honestly, it’s probably nothing,” Sid reassures the umpire as he’s guided from the field, “I just need a couple of minutes.”

Sullivan is watching him and knows instinctively that he’s lying. The slightly awkward way Sid is holding his arm - gingerly, and close to his body - is an instant give away.

Sid staggers to the edge of the field and makes a beeline for the picnic blanket that Father Brown, Lady Felicia, Bunty and Flambeau have parked themselves on. It’s sheltered by the branches of the sturdy Hambleston oak tree, and Sid collapses against its trunk with gritted teeth. 

Sullivan’s heart sinks.

He makes his way in from the outfield with the rest of the players, trying not to look too concerned. He picks up a bit of a jog as his chest seizes uncomfortably. 

It’d been quite a relaxing day until this point. The weather was perfect for cricket, and Mrs McCarthy and the rest of the WI had done a fantastic job of providing the day’s refreshments.

The Kembleford team had been ever so slightly behind, but with Sid bowling and many overs left they’d still been in with a shot.

That was until their star bowler had collapsed on to the pitch with an alarming cry, clutching his shoulder. 

Now everyone is gathering round Sid, murmuring concerns back and forth to each other.

Sullivan fights the urge to elbow his way to the front of the group, instead raising up on his tiptoes so he can see what’s going on. 

Sid is wincing as Nurse Phyllis checks his shoulder. Her husband is a pretty nifty batsman for the Kembleford side, and by a stroke of luck she’d brought her medical bag in the car with her. 

“That’s a nasty rotator cuff injury, Mr Carter,” Phyllis says, strapping Sid’s arm up with a strip of cloth. “I think you’ll live, but you’ll have to go easy on it for a while. I’d like you to go and see the doctor in a couple of days, just to make sure you’re healing up alright. Until then, it’s _rest_ , do you hear me? No more cricket.” 

There are audible groans of disappointment from the team. 

“Can’t he just bowl with the other arm?” Someone at the back suggests desperately. 

Dr Chandraty settles the crowd down swiftly, “Nurse Phyllis is completely correct. Sid _cannot_ play any more cricket with an injury like that. We’ll have to find another bowler.” 

“The Sergeant is quite good,” Sullivan blurts out without thinking. His mind is already rather occupied as it processes Nurse Phyllis’ diagnosis. 

Goodfellow looks at the ground bashfully, “I was a spin bowler in the school eleven; don’t know what I’ll be like nowadays, mind you.” 

Dr Chandraty claps Goodfellow on the shoulder and smiles, “I have complete faith in you Sergeant.” 

Mrs McCarthy, as efficient as ever, hurries over and begins shooing everyone towards the pavilion. “Right, we can solve bowling problems after lunch. After all this excitement I think it’s only fair we stop play for now. Myself, and the WI of course, have prepared _plentiful_ cucumber sandwiches for you all. Come on, this way!” 

Now that it’s clear that Sid is mostly alright, and that they’ve got a replacement bowler, the team’s attention is quickly stolen away by their hunger. There’s a great rush to the pavilion that leaves only Sullivan hanging back. 

He nods in thanks as Bunty makes room for him to drop himself down beside Sid. 

They’re safely tucked away behind Felicia’s deck chair, which blocks them from view of the rest of the field, and Sullivan feels only slightly embarrassed when he slips his hand into Sid’s.

Sullivan frowns at the sweat beading Sid’s forehead. “Are you alright?” He murmurs.

The others look away pointedly and busy themselves with their own conversations. 

Sid manages a smile and brushes his thumb over the back of Sullivan’s hand. “I’m fine. You worried about me, Inspector?” He teases. 

“No!” Sullivan replies reflexively. Denying his feelings for Sid is becoming a hard habit to break.Truth be told, he knows he’s already given himself away by the fact his grip on Sid’s hand has turned vice-like. “Well… perhaps a little.” 

Sid grins and his eyes scrunch up at the corners. He leans and presses a smooch to Sullivan’s temple, but then winces as the movement irks his shoulder. 

Sullivan fusses instantly, despite Sid’s protests, and starts rearranging his weight so Sid rests against his shoulder more comfortably.“Is that ok there? Are you sure you’re not holding it at an odd angle?” 

Sid slumps against him and yawns. “’S fine. You’re very comfy.” 

The frown line is still firmly in place on Sullivan’s brow. “As long as you’re sure you—“ 

Before Sullivan’s lecture on being _careful_ gets into full swing, Mrs McCarthy hurries over holding a plate laden with cucumber sandwiches and a yoghurt. “Sidney! Eat these, I don’t want you going hungry now.” 

“Thanks, Mrs M.” Sid says, eyeing the plate greedily. 

Sid doesn’t ask, but Sullivan immediately takes it upon himself to start feeding him. He makes sure the bites he feeds Sid are manageable, and he even peels the crusts off for him.

He doesn’t even complain when Sid slobbers all over his fingers, and instead just quietly dabs Sid’s mouth with his handkerchief.

Sullivan would never usually indulge such behaviour, but there’s still an anxious lump sitting in the base of Sullivan’s throat that makes him toss reason out of the window. 

Sid is absolutely loving the attention being heaped on him, all winning smiles and grateful kisses between bites. Reassuringly, he hasn’t lost any of his appetite either, and still scoffs like a pig despite the current situation.

Felicia is delighted to scold him, swatting at him gently with her folded up newspaper. “Sidney! Anyone would think you’d been raised by wolves, eating like that! _Manners_.” 

“All right, all right,” Sid nods a little grumpily, allowing himself to be told off, “Yes ma’am,” He salutes with his good arm. 

Sullivan spoons yoghurt into his mouth to stop him pouting. 

The group chatter enthusiastically as they tuck into lunch, teasing Sid on his concentrated bowling face and commenting on the highlights of the day so far. 

Flambeau, lying propped up on one arm at Felicia’s feet, remarks that he’s never understood the English obsession with cricket, which makes Sullivan frown. 

Sid nudges him gently on the arm, “Hey, don’t go all wounded,” He teases softly. 

Luckily, Father Brown, a keen cricketer himself, steps up to the challenge and allows Flambeau a debate on the importance of the game. 

It’s not long before lunch is over, and everyone starts looking to get the match started again. 

Inevitably, this makes Sid rather grumpy, “I want to play,” He frowns, rolling his shoulder experimentally. “Look! I’m fine! Plenty of movement.” 

“Plenty of movement and plenty of wincing too,” Sullivan notes, brushing his knuckles under Sid’s chin. 

“You have to follow the Doctors’ orders, Sid,” Felicia hums in a tone that will brook no argument. 

Sid pouts when he realises that he’s outnumbered. 

It’s with a great huff that he flops back against the oak and folds his arms. He also moans to Hereford and back when it dawns on him that Sullivan has to leave to go back on to the field, claiming that as an invalid he should have a caretaker of his choice to hold his hand while he convalesces. 

Sullivan looks very discontented at the thought of leaving him, causing Felicia to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “I’m certain he’ll be fine.” 

“Just ignore him, Inspector,” Bunty lowers her oversized sunglasses purely to make her eye roll visible, “He’s being a _baby_.” 

“Hey!” Sid protests. 

Bunty sticks her tongue out at him and Sid gleefully reciprocates. 

_Comfortingly Sid behaviour_ , Sullivan thinks. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll all keep a close eye on him, Nurse Sullivan.” Father Brown teases warmly.

Sullivan purses his lips and eventually nods. He allows Sid to get one last peck on the cheek before joining up with Sergeant Goodfellow to jog to the outfield. 

As play restarts, everyone can tell Sid is itching to get back out there. 

Father Brown is left with the unenviable job of trying to keep him in his seat. 

Things get particularly tense in the second to last over, as Sullivan and Doctor Chandraty step up to bat and bring Kembleford within reaching distance of a victory.

Bunty and Felicia swoon as the handsome doctor puts down his bat, and Sid takes it as personal insult. Sullivan is standing _right there_ and he is _obviously_ the more swoon-worthy of the two. He throws a grape at them in retaliation. 

-

When Kembleford finally secure a close victory thanks to a spectacular innings from last-minute batsman Felicia, Sid leaps up into the air with a cheer. He immediately doubles over and Father Brown pats him on the back soothingly. 

“We did it!” Sid cries, hands on his knees. 

“Another fine victory, I must say,” Flambeau says, grinning broadly. “Fantastic sport, cricket.” 

“You’ve changed y’tune,” Sid mutters. 

“Sid! Sid!” The team call, waving him over. 

Sid raises his good arm in salute and is brought into the team’s celebrations with much enthusiasm. Everyone takes care to jostle him ever-so-carefully, slapping him on the back and telling him they couldn’t have done it without him. 

Sullivan is grinning so widely, his cheeks flushed with victory, and Sid can’t help but fight his way through the crowd to drag him into a well-deserved hug. 

“We did it! We won!” Sullivan puffs, his eyes shining. “How’s your shoulder?” 

Sid rolls his eyes fondly. Even in the middle of a celebration Sullivan is still worrying about him. 

Sid hugs him tightly again and drops a subtle kiss behind his ear. “You can kiss it better for me later and we’ll see!” 

**Author's Note:**

> pls excuse spelling/grammar as usual!


End file.
